This Day
It’s a caliginous hour.
All this universe of verse
Portrays random snippets of you,
It does not spell out the alphabet of reality,
As I utter, compliment,
And offer rivers of lexical jewels
You’d find tender in the ode of fatherly love,
Under this nimbostratus sky.
The misty waves of darkness,
The dim corridors of schism,
And, to be found, a delicate fleur
In the blossom of the night,
When threadbare tales are being told,
When artifice is the bard of conviction,
When imperfections are buried
In the deepest grave of psyche,
Exhort and merit the submission to death.
And death? What an ultimate finality that is!
Admired and celebrated, but not just yet!
The zeal is felt as a song is sang to the harp,
Blest, I am on this day, blest because of you,
Blest by sagacity, and by your determination
To embrace life, and tackle the obstacles.
And it is then that my fondness erupts
At the Banquet of love with bass-relief
Engraved into my heart for eternity,
It is then that life has a meaning,
As the voice is heard,
As marching on continues.
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